Perfection
by Narrrcotic
Summary: Tayuya never liked to visit Kimimaro. He wasn't supposed to be sick. It wasn't right. TayuyaxKimimaro


Tayuya rarely visited Kimimaro.

And when she did, it was only ever because everyone else expected her to. Because he was sick, and sick people got visitors. Even if they were ass-kissing little pricks. And she was expected to go because she was a girl. And girls were supposed to be sympathetic little creatures that sat besides the beds of their loved ones and wept.

And sometimes, they were even supposed to weep at the death bed of someone they hated.

Because really, there was no doubt in the girl's mind that she hated Kimimaro.

He was the strongest of them all. The tallest. The best.

He was thin and gracefully, with a bloodline trait to kill for, a harsh, emotionless exterior that could leave even the most adept shinobi shaken. She hated him because he was perfect. And she was not.

She was small and slightly pudgy. Her fingers were stubby, with dirt-clouded nails bitten to the quick. She wasn't the cold-blooded, emotionless killer she wanted to be. Rather, she drew her power from her anger. Her rage fueled her abilities, just as it fueled her footsteps, loud and menacing, echoing off the corridor walls as she stamped towards Kabuto's wing.

God. Fucking. Damn. It.

One hand clutched tightly at a gracefully carved flute, knuckles bulging. Chestnut eyes directed a glare at the ceiling from underneath tufts of deep pink hair. She was looking particularly fierce today; teeth bared in an animalistic snarl.

"Alright you fucking paraplegic!" The door to Kimimaro's door was flung open with a resounding crash, revealing the angered member of the sound four in the doorway, her shoulders hunched forward, gaze fierce, almost daring him to speak, "I'm visiting your shitty little self, so you had better fucking tell that shit-head Kabuto that I stopped by so he'll get off my fucking back. Whining like the little bitch that he is!" Her breathing had increased exponentially, her chest rising and falling as her nostrils flared.

Sleepily, in a daze, Kimimaro blinked at the girl, tired eyes glazed as he shifted his hands to his lap. Sitting up in bed the boy was quite a sight to see. Like an animal who knows his death is imminent. His skin had grayed slightly. His eyes were clouded over like those a fish left out in the sun. His face sagged, a breathing tube stretching from beneath his nose, metal matches covering his bare torso, connected to an irritatingly beeping machine not far off.

He nodded.

That was why Tayuya hated him. He was perfect.

Perfect people didn't get sick and crumble away before your eyes like this. She could barely look at him. It disgusted her.

The flutist hesitated for a fraction of a second, breathing heavily, before turning to stalk away in much the same manner she had come. Angrily.

His voice caught her; a raspy croak that didn't belong to him.

"Tayuya-san…"

She felt her cheeks grow hot, and the red-head tensed before turning, giving him her most face-melting glare. He stared back indifferently.

"The hell do you want?"

"Please don't leave."

He wasn't allowed to sound that weak. He wasn't.

"Why the fuck shouldn't I?"

Her eyes locked onto his, and immediately his emotions were hers. The desperation and sadness. The misery that he knew he was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it. The anguish that he was falling, and there was no one to catch him. The loneliness.

"There is never anyone here."

She growled in the back of her throat, her brain urging her to turn and leave anyways. He wasn't like he could chase her and bring her back, now was it? Her feet stayed rooted to the spot. Fucking magnets or something. She tried to move; her muscles were stone. Finally, like a horse broken to bridle, she sighed, ducking her head in shame, and pulled the door closed behind her.

"Fine. But you fucking owe me!"

He smiled and nodded, knowing that she would never really make him pay up on that debt.

He knew, even if she didn't, that she loved him.

Because there was a fine, almost nonexistent, line between love and hate.

Tayuya had been tiptoeing on it for years.

"Thank-you Tayuya-san."

"You're welcome." She paused in her act of retrieving, and then dragging, a large wooden chair from across the room to his bedside before adding, "Asshole."

"How are you?"

"Fan-fucking-tastic." She replied, shrugging her shoulders and willing the muscles of her mouth to stay firm as she settled herself in the chair, which she had drawn unnecessarily close to his beside. She leaned forward onto the edge of his perfectly white bed, resting her chin against her forearms and staring up at him from beneath the outermost edges of her oddly configured cap, "Kidomaru's being a lazy-ass spider bitch again. The Siamese twins won't leave me the fuck alone. And Jiroubou is…a fat ass." Kimimaro didn't even bother to try and hide the smile that stretched his narrow face.

"What?" She demanded, glowering in an instant. He shook his head and she scowled, "What the fuck were you smiling at you prick?"

"You."

She hadn't expected a straightforward answer. Perhaps a knowing smile and a gentle shake of the head, but not a straightforward answer. She was gaping like a fish, her eyes widened, and her mouth moving to form words that never got spoken. She must have been very red. Her face probably clashed with her hair. He only smiled wider.

He leaned forward.

She didn't move. She was frozen in place like a frightened rabbit.

She was almost certain she trembled as much as his long, gentle fingers cupped her chin.

Her gaze cast itself downwards. No. He was perfection.

She was imperfection.

They couldn't…it shouldn't…it wouldn't work…

But she was powerless to stop him as he tilted her chin upwards, raising her slightly as he himself bent at the waist. She closed her eyes, bracing himself as his breathing tube brushed the underside of her nose, his insanely soft lips pressing forcefully against her chapped and bitten ones.

She inhaled in a sharp gasp at the coppery taste of blood, and the bitter taste of medicine. He took the opportunity to invade her mouth, deepening the kiss easily, as if he had been doing it his entire life. Her fingers clutched against his perfectly white sheets, staining them with the dirt that had collected on her palms.

He was not perfect. Because he felt the need to feel another.

Tayuya sat stock still with this realization as the kiss ended, his lips retreating from her own, leaving them swollen and red. Her eyes stared forward, unseeing as he settling back against his cushions, a light blush tainting his ivory skin.

"Forgive me Tayuya-san."

"N-nani?" Her turned obscenely large eyes onto him, and he bowed his head.

"I am sorry."

"For what?"

He blinked in mild surprise, "For kissing you. You never gave me permission to."

In a split second Tayuya was Tayuya once more, a lower growl emitting from her throat as she rolled onto the bed, straddling his legs, animalistic intent glowing in her eyes. She slid forward so that she sat on his stomach. He stared up at her with something akin to horror. She smirked.

Who was on top now, bitch?

She leaned forward, hands against his chest, dark hair falling in a curtain that shielded both their faces from the world.

"Well too bad for you, I don't need your fucking permission to do this!"

And quite suddenly, the EKG machine began beeping uncontrollably.


End file.
